


Mind Transendence

by Broba



Category: Dune Series - Frank Herbert, Homestuck
Genre: Mindfuck, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broba/pseuds/Broba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HE IS THE KWISATZ-HADERACH!!!</p><p>Okay, so some people read that and they immediately realise what is going on here, and to all those I say, I love you. </p><p>The kinkmeme prompt was for something that immediately put me in mind of this setting, and as the book is such a monumental part of the western canon of thought I just had to have a crack at it- I have no idea how deep this is going to go but I have a crazy idea it might turn into a bit of a thing.</p><p>Sopor is vital to the trolls. He who controls Alternia controls the sopor. He who controls the sopor controls the universe....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The nightmares came when sleeping to all trolls, and in sleep they were tormented and maddened endlessly by the visions which plagued the entire race. Day after day, night after nocturnal night, always at the edge of consciousness the dreams threaten to break through. Madness was common, death was common, to sleep meant understanding there may be no awakening. Sometimes, a recuperacoon was peeled open and the occupant was no more then a husk, curled over and coated in crusts of blood.  
  
When the secret of the sopor was determined, at last there was a defence against the visions. The sopor could lessen the effects, the sopor could keep away the madness. The sopor thrust the darkness from the sleeping mind and allowed space for rest and rejuvenation. Dreams became a time of reflection and growth, the recuperacoon became a womb of self-knowledge and enlightenment under the protection of the sopor. The sopor brought with it a new level of conscious understanding, the sopor extended life.  
  
In order to expand the empire into space and continue to develop as a species, the trolls required that the sopor flow uninterrupted at all times.  
  
The sopor could only be found on one planet, Alternia itself. Who controls Alternia controls the sopor. Who controls the sopor controls the universe.  
  
Alone and fastened b his wrists to a jagged rock, a troll slumped and bled. This was a desolate place, given over to waste land. The torments that he had endured had left his body broken and ragged, and the end was near. The people had gathered to watch him die, but before the end came the crowds were pushed back and directed away, and silence fell.  
  
There was a low soft hum in the air, from a suspensor chair. The rock was surrounded suddenly by guardians, cold and efficient. Then, the source of the noise floated into view. She was resplendent on her floating throne, and in the dim light of pre-dawn the long fronds of black hair floating around her in a loose globe suggested the depths of the sea alternately masking and revealing her form. Before the sun rose and added another excruciating blade of torment to the dying troll, she came to him and floated there before the rock he was bound to. She just stared at him with infinitely deep, infinitely pitiless tyrian eyes. There was no sense of hate in her, only an absolute and inflexible will to power no matter the cost in lives and blood.  
  
"Why are you here," croaked the man at last, his dried lips cracking and bleeding anew.  
"To see your dying."  
"Of course, of course," he muttered. Dehydration and pain had left him mad, barely sensible at all.  
"Do you have no more to say?" She sounded mockingly disappointed, "I thought you might say something."  
"To you?"  
"If you like."  
"Makes, no, difference," he stuttered, struggling to control the tremble in his voice, "in the, end."  
"Very profound, suffering one. I suppose you would be in a position to know."  
He gritted his teeth through the pain, but it was not nearly as bad now. His body had endured all it could, and the pain barely registered any more.  
"Condesce," he breathed.  
"Yes?"  
"You too will end."  
She smiled at that, the mysterious smile that comes of knowing the path of centuries as they swim by.  
"You're beaten, and broken. Your little rebellion is flickering out at last, suffering one, and you will be forgotten and unlamented. But, I will make you this one promise- a last mercy from me to you. I will remember you. When you are nothing more then dust and your words have run to silence, and every living thing that knew you has long died, I will still remember you. In a way, you will not die today. I will carry a tiny piece of you on with me. A powerless impotent little memory that I shall examine from time to time, and keep alive in my mind."  
He spoke no more, his strength was gone at last and he gave out. Whatever he might have thought to this gift was lost to posterity.  
  
The empire went on, and expanded outwards. Mighty ships extended the reach of the Condesce without end into the entire known universe, as ten thousand standard universal years passed. The ten thousand systems of the empire required troops to conquer and hold, and the reach of the Condesce was without limit. Though the great machines of empire could atomize worlds in an instant and carry the voice of the Condesce across the universe, there was still no substitute for the strength of limb and the purchase of territory was paid as ever in the coin of blood. The Condesce conscripted the entire race into her armed forces, and the core world Alternia existed only as a brooding nest for future warriors, and as the production world of the sopor. The empire could extend only as far as the sopor could be supplied, and so Alternia was completely given over to the production facilities in the poles, with the tropical and equatorial latitudes left wild. Beyond scattered cities here and there, the world was a garden planet populated by the wild lusii and the young.  
  
In the high towers and hive arrays of the central western continental capital, young trolls were free to take rooms as they saw fit, either colonizing the remnants of what the empire had left behind or else adding on structures of their own, catered to by construction robots.  
  
In his own personal quarters, dome-shaped rooms with walls of obsidian shot through with gold vein, floors of polished amber marble with recessed square panels underfoot that sent up a mild glow, Karkat Vantas worked diligently at his screen. He was alone, even his lusus companion was away on some unknowable errand, and he had nothing except his own curiosity and will to direct him to learn.  
  
The screen showed an image of the worlds in the local system, orbiting their sun. He passed a hand over Alternia, which duly race into closer view. The image was of a dull gray world which would have seemed entirely uninhabited except for the constant barrage of freight vessels descending and rising from an orbiting ring of craft. The traffic was unending, but other then this the planet was plain and dull. Endless mind-numbing bands of desert ringed the fat waist of the world, with meagre vegetation-bearing latitudes to the North and South showing a little more variety. Karkat clicked his tongue and the screen responded instantly, displaying the name of the world in neat white text.  
  
Karkat was barely more then a child, only having come into a home of his own that year. He had always been short and slight, and with his mop of unruly hair his appearance looked at times as though the wind had deposited a pile of detritus in a corner. Even though he was so young, his eyes had a seriousness to them, and a steady cool gaze that belied his age. He stared at the screen, at the planet, it would be a totem and a symbol for him in times to come.  
"Alternia."  
   
Karkat turned to his screen. His room was a jumble of books, papers and equipment as usual. He would come across some pastime or another and become obsessed for a while, before dropping it. His inability to stay with an idea longer then it took to get bored was a constant source of teasing among his friends. He was enraged when they mocked him, as though they were waiting for him to  grow out of his flighty ways at some point and behave normally. He was barely a teen-ager, and he wasn't ready to do that. He brought up the image on his screen, the one thing he kept coming back to.  
"Alternia."  
  
Karkat turned to his central screen, amid a cluster of them that dominated one entire wall of his laboratory quarters. To his left and right smaller screens scrolled information, news, data, everything. He needed the stimulation to keep his mind sharp, and keep him interested. It was still an effort for him to focus at times but it was easier as he got older. He flicked a finger across the screen to call up the familiar image, and reclined in his arc-chair which hissed softly as it took his weight.  
"Alternia," he mused. "Desert planet. I'll come for you soon."  
  
Gamzee came to him. Gamzee came to him. Gamzee came to him, walking through the portal, through the door, through the entryway. He was smiling, smiling, smiling. Karkat turned and his hand, his hands, left the screens, and the planets faded from view.  
  
Karkat had met Gamzee when three other trolls had decided to pick on the weak newcomer to the educational annexe. Gamzee was the same age as Karkat but he was already noticeably taller, and when he slouched over to see what was happening the bullies parted fearfully. Gamzee didn't say anything to them but he didn't have to, they all knew better then to get in his way. He had lived at the mercy of almost constant rages back then, interspersed with periods of blessed lucidity. He looked down at the snarling Karkat, fists bunched and fangs bared, and just grinned. He patted the little troll on the head and announced that he had to be some kind of a miracle, from that day it was known that Karkat had some kind of strange protection, Gamzee never raised a hand to him.  
  
"What do you want," said Karkat bluntly.  
"Shouldn't sit with your back to the door, best friend," Gamzee grinned wryly, his childishly smudged and splattered make-up emphasising his mouth, "might have been an assassin or anythin',"  
"I heard you coming halfway down the hall."  
"So? Those sounds coulda been imitated."  
Karkat smirked, "I'd have known."  
 _Fuckin' miracle,_ Gamzee thought, _he woulda known, at that._  
  
"What do you want Gamzee," said Karkat. He was tired and irritable.  
"C'mon man, practise time."  
"I don't feel like it, I'm not in the mood."  
"Mood! Fuck man, moods is for hoofbeasts and love-play, when it's time to get your violence on you fuckin' well find the mood then!"  
Karkat grunted and got up.  
  
"Gamzee? What?" Karkat glanced over his shoulder and then back to his monitors.  
"You fuckin' know what best friend," Gamzee leaned on the back of the arc-chair, making it tilt backwards dangerously far. He loomed over Karkat and grinned down.  
"Fine, looks like you need another beating."  
"Oh you fuckin' didn't, don't even tell me that you did. You're pretty good, but you ain't nowhere near good enough to talk that kinda talk yet."  
Karkat grinned and stood.  
  
Karkat grumbled as Gamzee let the way to a training room, a wide open space beneath the hive, an abandoned cargo zone. He, he, they, them, went there there and there in silence, over and again. Gamzee was a born fighter though inexperienced, a skilled combatant, a seasoned veteran of many combats. Normally Gamzee was content to laze around most of the time, but fighting practice was the one exception, he never missed an opportunity. Karkat used to be, was, is, will be, tolerant of this as it did Gamzee good to improve his focus, and he tended to have fewer outbursts when he had an outlet to pour his energy into.  
  
Gamzee hefted a child's club, a heavy looking stave, a killing-stick. He span on one foot, ducking or weaving or leaping, and Karkat struggled to keep up as he always did.  
  
Later, and later, and later, Karkat returned to his quarters to rest. He felt himself improving over time, but Gamzee was always a step ahead of him, frustratingly. What was worse, Gamzee was so careful never to hurt him- Karkat would have felt better about it if Gamzee would cut him, or knock him down, or anything but instead he easily blocked or evaded everything Karkat tried. It was patronising.  
  
Karkat unsealed his recuperacoon where the sopor waited for him, warm and inviting. He stepped into that embrace and let his mind spread outwards as the endless infernal pressure from the farthest reaches of the void, an unceasing babble of half-heard voices pushing on his skull, was eased by the sopor.


	2. Chapter 2

When he slept, Karkat dreamed. The sopor kept away the worst of the nightmares, but what replaced them wasn't much better. He had always suffered from bad dreams- not the awful visions of the horrorterrors, genuine dreams of his own. He had visions of himself stood atop a pier of rock that jutted out over an endless dune sea of sand before him. The sun was always setting in his dreams, the light was dim enough to tolerate on his skin. He would look up into the purpling sky with pink and red clouds scudding by, and watch as the great wide eye of the moon rose in the distance. There was always something nagging at his consciousness in the dream, like the last wisp of a thought as it departed his mind. He could never bring to mind what it was that he had been clinging to, only that it was an idea that was very important. For years he stood on that rock spire in his dreams and tried to remember himself. The wind blew, he felt cold. He looked up and the moon swam above him, or perhaps it was he himself tumbling through an infinite pool of dark water, looking down on the stoic fixed moon below him as he flew.  
  
There was always a cry on the wind, a word he almost grasped and, just as it started to make sense, he woke up.  
  
Karkat pushed himself free of his recuperacoon, dripping with slime, and shook his head. It was not part of the dream this time, a noise in the real world had awoken him. He stumbled into his clothes after towelling himself off and stepped out of his quarters into the sterile blank walled corridor of the meteor laboratory. He followed the sound of heavy breathing along the corridor and turned into a larger room that annexed all of the dormitories together, a place they often met together as a group.  
  
Gamzee and Sollux were there, and Karkat saw instantly from the details of their posture and body language that they had been arguing with each other prior to his arrival. The both looked over as he walked calmly up and sat down near them. He looked at the expectantly, in silence, waiting.  
  
"We can't thtay here," said Sollux slowly, "I've been trying to exthplain it to thith idiot."  
Gamzee just made an exasperated gesture and flopped back in his seat.  
"Gam, Sol," Karkat said, "why are we having this conversation?"  
"What doeth that even mean?"  
"I mean why is this even a subject for you two? Where else would you go? You saw what happened to Alternia, so where else would you like to be?"  
"Not fucking here!" Sollux folded his arms tightly.  
"He's being fuckin' dickish," Gamzee spoke up at last, "we ain't got nowhere else to go."  
"We could at leatht... thearch around the athteroid field. Look for thupplieth. Thomething!"  
  
It was a question that had threatened to break the group up several times already. Karkat insisted they had to stay, or at least not make plans to leave for the immediate future. He couldn't offer any alternative, he had no idea, but most of the trolls agreed with his general viewpoint. Sollux was always difficult, with any issue he could always manage to find an opposing viewpoint. It was all very rapidly becoming too much, Karkat felt responsible for them but he could do nothing for them. The others thought he was just being quiet, a little reserved, but he was having a hard time keeping his mind together. Of all of them only Gamzee saw that side of him.  
  
"Come on," Gamzee stood up, "sorry for wakin' you up, but you need more sleep. You ain't in no shape to do anything.  
Karkat protested weakly, but Gamzee was quite right. Sollux looked on mistrustfully as Gamzee led Karkat away, it was a good excuse to end their argument.  
  
Karkat stripped slowly back in his room, peeling away his clothes while Gamzee unsealed his recuperacoon.  
"In you go,"  
"Yeah, I know,"  
"And stay there this time,"  
"I will."  
"Liar. It's gettin' so I have to peel your fuckin' eyelids closed recently."  
"I can't sleep, okay? I try, I want to sleep more then anything, I just can't."  
"Bad dreams?"  
"Always."  
"Just close your eyes," Gamzee said softly, "this time will be different."  
"How?"  
"Trust your moirail."  
  
Karkat grumbled but allowed himself to sink into to ooze, and Gamzee sealed him in. He counted under his breath softly until he felt that Karkat would be starting to drift, before he went to the fluid distributor and expertly pulled open the cover. The device fed a constant stream of sopor into the recuperacoon and accepted a constant return feed of slime which was cleansed and recycled back. Normally the workings of suck small things were beneath the attention of anyone but robots, but Gamzee had spent a long and educational time tinkering with the levels of his own recuperacoon. He bit the sharp tip of his index fingerclaw off and used the blunt tip to twist a tiny screw linked to the regulator valve. He liked his sopor stronger then was normally permissible, and his sleep was always blissfully undisturbed. He reasoned that it would do Karkat to have a stronger mix for once, to take the edge off.  
  
Within the warm slime of the recuperacoon Karkat floated naked and alone. He began to drift into unconsciousness, far more easily then he was used to. The descent into sleep became a fall from a black cliff and he sank deeply into his own mind. He felt his body tighten and his muscles tense. The inky nothing behind his eyelids was now an abyss into which he was inexorably falling.  
  
Gamzee shrugged and gave the distributor another twist. The dose was potent, but it just meant that his moirail would get a better sleep, which would be better for them all in the end.  
  
Karkat screamed wordlessly as he faced the infinite. His limbs were splayed out to the side and he felt the awful knowledge that it was all without end. He was looking into something so empty and endless and formless that it blinded him utterly and burned his eyes. With a mental effort he tried to swim against the invisible currents tugging at him. The black was no longer formless. He saw, in the distance, pale dots moving languidly against the meaningless background. Tiny, bright grey dots just as he must appear to a distant observer. He lashed his limbs and struggled to move, slowly and painfully turning around against the flow. He could tell from the movement of the distant starfields that he was gradually turning onto his back, compared to his previous orientation. Something light, almost white, flooded his vision with a shocking sudden flash and he screamed again. He was staring into his own face, hanging above him and staring blankly ahead with a rictus expression of pure horror.  
  
Karkat floated on his back, and above him floated another Karkat, as naked and as terrified as he was. He was himself and he saw the other himself behind him. And behind that self another, and another. A stream of selves, all of them floating in a stack like a pile of plates.  
"Who are you?" He shouted, his words nothing more then a faint disturbance against the ever-present fluid pressure.  
"Who are you?" Replied Karkat to himself.  
"I am me, the real me!"  
"You are who I will be."  
  
Karkat could see now that behind the self he stared at was another self, and another, and another. They spoke as one sometimes, or else the argued and cried and cajoled him. The face hanging inches above him was familiar and yet not- it was older then he was, there were wrinkles and pits in the face, the teeth were nearly gone, the hair was lank. He thrust a hand forwards reflexively to push the thing, the vision, away but his flesh sank easily into the phantasmagorial substance of himself without a sound. There was a burst of pressure within his chest, Karkat felt like he was exploding from within, in a gut-wrenching spasm of pain he felt himself moving. The arms of the ancient, aged figure opened wide to accept his screaming body as he floated- and flowed- into it.  
  
And beyond- Karkat passed through the ghost and saw immediately another ghost, and another, and another. With increasing speed he was falling through himself over and over. Karkat after Karkat parted before him, slowly he saw them changing too, strengthening and rejuvenating before his eyes he was passing along a visual echo of his own ageing process as he slowly moved along his own life from age and decrepitude towards youth. The madness was overwhelming and he screamed endlessly in fear and confusion. There was an end in sight, a point where he lessened and shrank into nothing at all- a dot and no more. And there was something beyond that- a glowing light, a fateful place that filled him with dread. He couldn't bear the thought of looking there, it was more then he could manage and he thrust out his hands, clawing in desperation, reaching for reality again.  
  
The slime bubbled and parted around the panting body of Karkat as he burst through the surface and out of his recuperacoon. He felt light- almost weightless. He stumbled out onto the floor and looked around himself wildly. He was not where he should be- this was not the meteor. Everything looked familiar though, if blurred by distance and memory. He was in his own hive again- where he had lived before, before everything. He rubbed his eyes and then gazed in shocks at his hands- they seemed tiny to him. In a numb insensate state of mind he dressed himself, in the old familiar clothing he had worn in those days, clothes which he had long since cast off but now seemed new and well maintained. He stumbled out of the room into the main area of his quarters, and seeing his screen was still active he ran over to it, tapping furiously at the keyboard he searched for information. He read news feeds that were old and out of date, they spoke of events he remembered from childhood- half remembered, he hadn't paid enough attention at the time, in retrospect. He collapsed to his seat in a daze and rubbed at his head.  
  
That was how he remained until Gamzee came to him, shortly later.  
"Hey there best friend! You know what time it is!"  
Karkat looked up wearily. Gamzee looked impossibly young. And short.  
"What do you want Gamzee," said Karkat. He was tired and irritable.  
"C'mon man, practise time."  
"I don't feel like it, I'm not in the mood."  
"Mood! Fuck man, moods is for hoofbeasts and love-play, when it's time to get your violence on you fuckin' well find the mood then!"  
Karkat grunted and got up.  
"I'm serious, this is- this is a bad day for it. I'm not myself, I can't handle this today."  
Gamzee snorted and tossed a practise club to him, Karkat caught it reflexively, "fuck if I care about your handlin' abilities, this shit be important, man."  
Karkat just groaned. It had to be a dream.  
  
They went to a wide open apron of concrete near the hive used for practise and games by all of the locals. Gamzee strode confidently into the middle of the square and began limbering up, stretching his long limbs smoothly.  
"I got to warn you little bro, I been learnin' a few new things just recently. I reckon I'm really steppin' up my game. I'll go easy on you though."  
"Hey Gamzee, could I ask you something?" Karkat frowned, looking around him. The place seemed so small now. So ordinary. It had all been so... big.  
"Sure, anythin'."  
"Listen, I... don't want you to go easy on me any more."  
"Huh?"  
"Just hear me out. I want you to give it everything you've got, just this once."  
"I don't want to hurt you, bro."  
"I know, I know, and I wouldn't be saying it unless... look I think I need this. I just need to try something."  
Gamzee shrugged, but his expression was serious, as always when he was ready to fight, "if you want, sure. But don't say you wasn't warned. This is gonna be harsh!"  
Karkat hefted the club thoughtfully, and waved it through the air a couple of times. Then he tossed it up and caught it behind his back, spinning it around in his palm to adopt a fighting stance, "go."  
  
Gamzee smirked and leaped into the air, twisting as he brought his club down hard- it crashed against the tip of Karkat's own club, Karkat had moved without thinking, raising the club up to counter him. Gamzee grunted and moved into left-foot-eight-figure attack posture to deliver a series of blows to Karkat's flank, only to find him reversing his grip in the rear-forearm-defense-figure posture and knock his blows out of the air neatly.  
  
Gamzee gasped in surprise and almost lost his footing as Karkat swept the very tip of his foot against Gamzee's knee, it nearly took him off his feet in a classic horizon-arc-kick. He stepped back into a more defensive position as Karkat swiped and clubbed at him almost lazily. Karkat cast his mind back and remembered year after year of combats like this one. Gamzee had always been the strongest fighter he had known, and had taught him well. He remembered the years vividly, and with a sudden dreadful shock he realised that he could remember more- years stretching into the future. They fought back-to-back as warrior-brothers and on through combat after combat, trial after trial. Snatches of conversation breathed into his ear alongside wisps of vision, and his muscles tensed readily with the experience of decade after decade.  
"Never forget your footing," Gamzee grinned to him in years to come as they sparred along the edge of a precipice overlooking a vast empty sand-sea, "look in my eyes. Look! What am I doing? Where am I looking? Concentrate!"  
"I am concentrating!"  
"You're better then this, again! Left-foot-eight and then right-foot-right-four posture, remember!"  
"I can do it!"  
"I know you can, but you can do better!"  
  
Karkat drifted out of the fugue state, the vision faded. He looked down and Gamzee was sprawled on the ground, barely conscious. Karkat cried out and dropped the club, running to him.  
"Gamzee!"  
"What happened, man?"  
"I'm sorry!"  
"You moved so fast, I ain't never seen you do that," Gamzee croaked and let Karkat help him up with a grunt, "where'd you learn that? That was high-level shit right there,"  
"I, uh, I saw someone fight like that once, I guess I picked it up."  
  
They regarded each other warily. Gamzee had never received a battering like that in his life, and Karkat looked as though he just wanted to cringe into a ball and die.  
  
"Gam-"  
"No, man, no, you don't have to explain,"  
"I'm sorry!"  
"And don't ever fuckin' apologize! You want to shame me, bro? How many times I knocked you on your ass, I ever say sorry to you? That ain't how it is between warriors."  
"I'm not a warrior."  
"You fuckin' fight like one."  
"I have the best teacher."  
"What you talkin' about, I don't know shit,"  
"Yeah, but you get seriously better."


	3. Chapter 3

Karkat jogged along the halls and corridors at the centre of the city to the respite block where Kanaya lived when she was there. Her various duties took her all around the planet and even, occasionally, out into the empire which meant that she had to keep rooms in different places. She had always been circumspect about her various tasks, she did work of some note in the empire and that had to suffice for an explanation, but Karkat had always suspected there was more to it. Now, he knew. Now, he had _seen._  
  
The hive was old but well cared-for, and now Karkat knew by whom. He strode along a dark, lengthy corridor lined with paintings of old scenes and ideas. She was waiting in a central atrium that lay in the core of the building at the bottom of a large light well that ran up and down the middle of the building, effectively a hidden garden ringed by the hive itself. The flooring was an infinitely repeating mosaic pattern, the cylindrical columns were of a dark red mineral shot through with black and blue veins. Looking with new eyes, he saw symbolism in every aspect of the place. the colonnade surrounding the atrium, the subtle pressure of the pattern on the floor that drew the eye inexorably to the centre, the raised stone dais where she waited, tending to a series of labrums each bearing exotic foliage from this world and others. It all combined to say one thing to him, and he voiced it as he walked straight up to Kanaya who turned to him with a cool smile.  
 _"Bene Hortulax!"_  
"Karkat. It's happened again, then."  
"Do you deny it?"  
Kanaya sighed and slowly put down the delicate burnished copper watering can she had been using, and smoothed down her robes. Karkat now knew why she didn't just let robots tend to her work. She shook her head.  
"I deny nothing."  
"Why didn't you tell me what you were, all this time?"  
"I'd hardly be what I am if I did, would I?"  
"I need answers, Kanaya."  
"You think to come to the sisterhood for them?"  
"Will you not talk to me, then?"  
Kanaya sighed, and a slightly conflicted expression crossed her face.  _No,_ thought Karkat, _if she looks conflicted it is because she wants me to see that in her, nothing she does is by accident. Nothing!_ He was not sure where the thought came from, either from himself now or from some future iteration of himself, but he felt a sudden and unaccountable bitterness towards the Bene Hortulax sisterhood. The witches, as they were known.  
  
Kanaya moved to a small stone bench in the middle of the dais and invited Karkat to sit with her, which he did cautiously.  
"You have had a vision, have you not?"  
"I think so, I don't know what happened. I need to get back!"  
"Back?"  
"Back to my, my own time? My self. I don't belong here!"  
"Is that how it feels to you? That you have travelled through time?"  
"Haven't I?"  
"I don't have all the answers, but I can tell you that from my point of view this is not the first time you have come to me like this."  
Karkat stiffened and watched her warily.  
"What do you mean?"  
"You have always been special Karkat, we saw it from the beginning. That is why I have always been here, to watch over you and protect you."  
"Protect me? Tell that to Gamzee, he'd be offended. He thinks that's his job. Ah-" Karkat felt a chill wave of realisation crawl slowly up his spine. Indeed, Gamzee had always felt a certain sense fo protectiveness for him, strange as it was. He wasn't like that with anyone else. Now Karkat had a good idea why.  
"You arranged for Gamzee to be there for me?"  
"We did."  
"What did you tell him? How did you control him?"  
She smiled thinly, "when he was a young boy a sister came to him and suggested, in an unguarded moment that she thought a certain young male who lived nearby to him was something very special, nothing more."  
"And because of that he's been a my side all these years?"  
"The right word, at the right moment. That is how we work. A word can be a lever to sway history in one direction or another when applied at the correct point."  
"You manipulated him!"  
"And if I don't tell you what I know, what will you do to me?" She countered coldly, "what could you now do? You must have thought about it."  
"I don't even know what I have been thinking. I don't know what's me thinking now and me remembering things I am about to think any more," He leant over and laid his head in his hands wearily. She placed a hand on his back and began moving, expertly un-knotting tense muscles with calm deft movements as thought she knew every inch of his body intimately. Karkat sighed despite himself.  
"What am I?" He moaned.  
"You are someone who can be in two places at once, I think. There is disagreement in the sisterhood. Some feel you are not yet perfected."  
Karkat frowned at that and looked at her for a moment. She caught the faint relaxation of muscle at the corner of his eye which told her he was thinking and turning inward. She dug a thumb against a point in his back and he shrieked and sat up sharply.  
"Don't!" She admonished.  
"What the fuck?"  
"Don't look within. I ask you only one favour- when you speak to me, say what is on your own mind, not what you have seen yourself coming to say."  
"Shit, that hurt. Why?"  
She stood up and lifted her watering can thoughtfully. "Karkat. If I let a drop of water fall, what happens to it?"  
"It splashes on the ground I guess?"  
"Yes. Anyone can foresee that. As soon as the moment comes, the drop must fall and it is trapped in that destiny. Only before, when I can decide to hold this can or tilt it, or throw it out of a window or do nothing, only then is there any choice. When you use your vision, you take away your choices."  
"What difference does it make? The drop of water will fall, or not, regardless of whether we know in advance what will happen."  
"That is a point of philosophy, Karkat. Is a future fixed before it is observed?"  
"I don't know how to answer that."  
"You are in danger. You are not travelling, Karkat. Your mind is opening itself to knowledge beyond your own time."  
"How do you know all this?"  
"Two reasons," she hesitated. Again, she was letting him see the hesitation in her to make a point. She was telling him that this was not easy for her, or perhaps not that she didn't want to tell him- perhaps she was not permitted to. Karkat watched her warily. He felt tension, and danger.  
"Yes?"  
"First, I know it because you told me the first time you came to me like this."  
"When did I do that?"  
"Ah, it was some time ago, you were a child then."  
"Why don't I remember this? I-"  
"Don't look! Promise!"  
He was taken aback, and just nodded mutely to her.  
"The sisterhood has some knowledge of your situation Karkat. Some. This is because we have been working in secret for over one thousand years to bring about a very specific mutation in the gene-line through our stewardship of the mother-grubs."  
"What?"  
"Karkat, listen to me. What you are experiencing is the beginning of what we call Other Memory. You are able to cast your mind back into your own self, in the way that our own Revered Mothers can, however you are very special- if you are as I believe you to be. Karkat, you are able not only to see the past, you have cast your mind forwards into the memory of your future self. You have not travelled at all Karkat- you have remembered yourself from your own future."  
"That's impossible!"  
"No, not for you. At some point in your life you have been exposed to a massive dose of sopor that has unfixed your mind. You have gone through what our own Revered Mothers do when they gain their Other Memory of their past, but more- you have expanded your awareness to encompass your entire life not just that which came before. This expanded consciousness is having an effect on both your future and past, you are coming aware in all of your self!"  
"What's going to happen to me?"  
"Karkat I am sorry,"  
"Kanaya!"  
"The ultimate goal of the sisterhood. We have been striving to create a being that can use the mind-expanding influence of sopor to see into their own past, as we do, but also to see into the future. Prescience. A being who is able to exist in two places at once and go where we of the sisterhood do not dare to."  
"Where is this place?"  
"When our Revered Mothers speak of their Other Memory they describe an infinite blackness stretching out ahead of them. It is horror to us, we cannot go there."  
Karkat shivered, he remembered the abyss that had stretched before him. He had endured it, where a Revered Mother of the Bene Hortulax would have gone mad and died.  
"What is Other Memory?"  
"Soon you will know, Karkat. Because, you will see not only your own past but also the genetic memory link into the lives of your genetic antecedents."  
"My antecedents?"  
"Those who came before you. You carry their gene-line in your body, and their memories as well. But Karkat! Be careful! Other Memory is addictive and dangerous, you can lose yourself to it! The memories of those in your past can overwhelm you, that is why I tell you not to look!"  
"What will I do? How can I keep myself?"  
"There is something I must give you."  
  
Kanaya led the way and Karkat followed, she pressed a certain place on a wall to reveal a secret passageway that swung open noiselessly, and they descended into the cellars below the hive itself. They had to step carefully along a steep and rough-hew stair, which Kanaya navigated with ease from long familiarity.  
"Do you know why the empire permits the sisterhood to exist?"  
"I hadn't thought about it."  
"We are meddlesome and difficult, and certainly the Condescension would destroy us if she could, however we have secrets that we have held carefully for a millennium and this is our protection. She needs what we provide her."  
"And what is that?"  
"Sopor. Without us, there can be none, and the empire requires that the sopor must flow."  
Karkat frowned, "what is sopor, anyway?"  
"Life, perhaps, in it's most distilled essence."  
"Where does it come from?"  
"I tell you in all seriousness, that if ever you were to try to force that out of me I would stop my own heart in an instant before telling you. Any sister would do the same."  
"That's why you can't be threatened by the Condesce,"  
"Yes. All she has to sway us with is death, and we embrace it without flinching. In this way she is made powerless to us."  
Karkat nodded and was silent. Below the hive was a cave system that they entered, it was unlit except for the occasional glow-globe that cast only the minimum of muted light required to see their way. After a time they came to the shore of what Karkat took to be a lake, except as they approached he detected the subtle but unmistakeable scent of sopor. He knelt down and ran a fingertip through it.  
"Sopor!"  
"Yes."  
"There must be decalitres of it here!"  
"We keep reserves against the day that," she hesitated fractionally, "something happens."  
"Why have you brought me here?"  
"This is unrefined sopor, it is raw and potent, it would not be usable normally without processing. It is also considerably more potent then the refined product."  
  
Karkat realised what she was saying. A massive dose of sopor, that was what she had told him triggered this journey, and now he was staring at a lake of it.  
  
"You want me to use this?"  
"I think that you must."  
"You said it's not usable."  
"Yes. It would be lethal to me, or to a normal person. To step into it would invite endless sleep."  
"How do you know it won't kill me?"  
"I honestly believe that it might. But, I also believe that there is a chance that you are the one who can overcome and transmute the sopor within yourself in order to travel without moving."  
Karkat looked down. The surface of the sopor was unblemished, f lowing and reflecting. He saw himself in it, in more ways then one.  
"If what you say is true, who will step out of this sopor after I go in?"  
"The one who shortens the way, perhaps. The bridge to the future."  
"How can you be so sure of all this?"  
"Because this is not the first time we have spoken on these things. If I am sure of you, it is only because you convinced me to be."  
  
Karkat awkwardly pulled off his top and his trousers without a word. He didn't dare look to see what would become of him, but he knew that he had to find out. However this journey had begun, he had no choice. He was put in mind of the droplet of water falling towards the ground. It had no choice, once it had begun the descent. He stepped into the liquid which was shockingly cold, and instantly felt the effects tingle up his leg. The sopor was terrifyingly strong, it numbed his flesh as soon as he touched it. Karkat sank up to his chest into the chill slime, he could feel his body turn to a numb dead weight and he began to sink. He wanted to turn and at least look back at Kanaya, to confirm to himself that he was not truly alone, but he could no longer move even that much.  
  
Blackness closed around him and he felt himself falling, like before. Once more he was a fragment tumbling in endless blackness only this time he knew what the blackness was- nothing less then the endless sweep of time itself laid out before him. the future was dark and bleak but he could stare into the abyss without fear. The sopor bolstered his mind, he was able to think without pain and to feel without knowledge to blind him. His mind struck outwards to the very edge of his existence and he knew that once again he had travelled without moving, he was at the end of his lifetime and behind him stretched back self after self all the way to his birth. Karkat concentrated and reached out to himself. This time, he felt with calm certainty his self reaching back to him. He was still unsure and there was fear at the edges of his mind clawing to get in but he fought against it to throw himself back, back towards where he had been when this started.  
  
Karkat woke and unsealed his recuperacoon, slipping out of the warm sopor to the floor with uncertain feet that carried him awkwardly. He dressed himself and stared at the mirror. It was all wrong, he was barely able to see above the lower rim of the mirror unless he stood on tiptoes. Around him, his newly constructed quarters gleamed with fresh paint and clean-hewed wood. The robots had finished their work, and he had moved into his new home as was the custom, to take up his solitary life and development. Alone, he would develop into the adult from what he was now- a child. Karkat sighed and went to his screen to try and get some idea where, and at what time, he was. This time he didn't feel weak or afraid, he was if anything becoming accustomed to the dislocating experience of waking somewhere other then he had been. Or, perhaps it was wrong to think of it that way. He was starting to realise that he, himself, was not moving- it was his mind and essence, the focus of his memories, that was dislocating and reorienting itself in different times. He grinned wryly, looking down at his tiny chubby fingers. There might be something to this after all. If he could control this ability then where was the limit to what he might do?  
  
He was lost in such thoughts when he heard something. He tilted his head and concentrated hard. Though he was a child, he had the knowledge of the adult, the experience of his whole life distilled into one moment. He could hear Gamzee coming and groaned inwardly, there was no time for this. His door opened and there was his friend, looking as child-like as he felt. Gamzee was older then him and Karkat had always thought of him as enormous, a figure stood over him protectively. Now he saw that his friend was not so older then himself, and barely taller at all really, at this time in his life. How had he not seen it before? He was truly seeing, re-seeing, with new eyes.  
"What do you want," said Karkat bluntly.  
"Shouldn't sit with your back to the door, best friend," Gamzee grinned wryly, his childishly smudged and splattered make-up emphasising his mouth, "might have been an assassin or anythin',"  
"I heard you coming halfway down the hall."  
"So? Those sounds coulda been imitated."  
Karkat smirked, "I'd have known."  
 _Fuckin' miracle,_ Gamzee thought, _he woulda known, at that._  
  
Karkat let Gamzee look around his new quarters with interest. He remembered that his friend had shown a great deal of concern at the time that he have a place that was secure and well built. He had thought it was a little strange at the time, but now he had a new perspective. He could see the hidden hand of the Bene Hortulax in everything that happened now.  
"Gamzee," he said softly.  
"Hm?"  
"Hey listen, did you speak to anyone before you came here?"  
"Sure, we was speakin' just last night remember?"  
"Not me, I mean, did you speak to anyone else? Like, maybe someone you didn't know before? Maybe you just bumped into someone?"  
"Huh," Gamzee thought about it and rubbed his chin theatrically. Karkat had to keep himself from smiling, Gamzee had always looked so tough and self-possessed to him, but now he could see a child putting on the airs of a grown-up.  
"Well?"  
"I guess. I mean, there was this one lady I ran into just before, she asked me to help her move some bags up into her hive,"  
"Oh yeah?"  
"Yeah, I guess... I figured I'd help out? I dunno, I just felt like it."  
I _just bet you felt like it,_ thought Karkat, _you would have felt like you were acting on your own the whole time._ "What happened then?"  
"Nothin'. She gave me some pie, it was sick good."  
"Yeah? She say anything?"  
"Not much. Oh, she said how there had been some bad shit recently, where young ones were attacked by raiders lookin' for easy targets? Somethin' like that I guess? That's why I figured I'd come check on you."  
"Mmm. I see. Thanks man,"  
"Hey-y-y how come you're all thinkin' about things an' shit? You alright?"  
"I had some bad dreams. Hey, I need to go do something, is that okay?"  
"Where you off to?" He saw Gamzee shift to stand up eagerly. He was starting to see the job the witches had done on him. Without the slightest thought that he might not be acting of his own accord, they had programmed Gamzee skilfully to watch over him like a sentinel. He felt a little sick to see his friend, his moirail-to-be, in this new light.  
"I need to see Kanaya,"  
"Oh, okay. I'll stick round here, okay?"  
That surprised Karkat. He had thought Gamzee would have insisted on coming along, but he hadn't even brought it up. He was starting to feel that the work of the Bene Hortulax was even more subtle then he had suspected- Gamzee knew to let Karkat go to them alone.  
  
Karkat made his way impassively to Kanaya's hive without hesitation, finding the way easily. He remembered that as a child he had always been aware of her on the periphery of his life, he had always regarded her as a friend of a friend, though perhaps without ever knowing for certain which friend. The witch had inserted herself into his life from an early age, perhaps she had known him since he was born, he wouldn't be too surprised. Kanaya was of an indeterminate age reached when one passed beyond childhood itself into the early realms of adulthood. As fas as he could remember she had always been the same, always herself. There was an ageless quality to her and when he stepped into the atrium at the centre of her hive it looked almost exactly as it had done years later, with the exception that the plants in her little garden were all young shoots.  
  
Kanaya looked up in surprise as he approached so boldly and stared up at her, he barely reached her thigh.  
"Oh, Karkat?"  
 _"Bene Hortulax!"_  
Kanaya didn't flinch, she exerted an incredible self control just to meet his knowing gaze. "Where did you hear those words, Karkat?"  
"I know what you are, and I know what you witches think I am."  
"What are you?"  
"I am the one who shortens the way."  
Kanaya caught her breath in her throat in a thrill of excitement. She had watched over the gene lines that had produced him, she had known that his genetic make up was unique but she had never dared hope that he might be anything other then another step along the way in the great plan. _Could he be the kwisatz haderach?_


	4. Chapter 4

From the moment he had emerged shivering and naked from the brooding caverns Karkat had been watched over by the witches of the Bene Hortulax. Their plan, the manipulate the various gene lines over the centuries in order to create the kwisatz haderach mutation- and Karkat himself was another step in that plan. The gene lines were not yet complete, Karkat was intended to produce viable genetic material which would be surreptitiously used to create the next step, and so on. The sisterhood were not ready for the idea that they might have succeeded beyond their wildest dreams, and created the very mutation they sought centuries ahead of their best projections. Of course, the very nature of mutation allowed for a certain degree of unpredictability even notwithstanding the best efforts and sciences of the sisterhood.  
  
Kanaya was confronted by an angry, tiny thing that snarled and raged at her, and despite all of her training and discipline she could not help but think that she was seeing the very god that they had been trying to create. The universe's super being, the one who could travel without moving. The one who could be in two places at once- the shortener of the way.  
  
"What is the secret of sopor?" He demanded.  
"I can't tell you that!"  
"You'll stop your heart first, is that it?"  
"I- yes! I would!"  
"Witch! Tell me!"  
" I can't! You don't understand!"  
"You manipulated me all my life, and even the people around me- you made me what I am! How am I supposed to behave, tell me? How can I go on, knowing that everything I ever knew was a lie!"  
"Not a lie! We put the pieces in place, but you are still yourself!"  
"I don't have a self any more! I can't find myself, I'm everywhere! I can't live this way!"  
She knelt down and placed her hands on his cheeks, kissing his forehead softly, "you have seen too much, before you were ready to."  
"I don't know who I am any more. Who is standing here now? Am I me, or am I a memory of me I am having later? Why didn't I ever remember coming here like this, now, when I was growing up?"  
"Karkat, please, slow down. I'll tell you what I can but you have to stop yourself from going too far at once. If you see too much-"  
"Yes! That's what you told me! I mean, you will tell me that, in the future! You said I mustn't use my power to see what I am going to do, I have to choose for myself,"  
Kanaya looked both sceptical and understanding at once, "I agree."  
"What is the Other Memory? What is the dark place that the sisterhood fear to look at- is it really  the future?"  
"Karkat!"  
"Answer me!"  
"You are asking questions that are forbidden of outsiders,"  
"You made me into this, damn you! Now deal with the consequences, witch!"  
Kanaya pursed her lips in consternation and closed her eyes, "you need to know about your Other Memory first of all. That is what you must control above all else, or it will become a fire that consumes you from within."  
Karkat sat himself down opposite her, and nodded, "go on."  
  
She began to explain to him, filling in the details that their previous and future conversation left out. All of the genetic antecedents that had gone before were contained in every cell of the body, including all of their living memories. As Karkat's ability to traverse his own timeline of memories increased, he would learn to move back before his own birth, to draw upon the memories of those antecedents. The danger came from letting the memories become the mind- the personalities clamouring for attention could rapidly become a rabble, each memory demanding to be heard and leading to paralysis or worse- possession. The state in which a past being completely overwhelms the mind of the dreamer leaving them an abomination. This was why only the most disciplined and powerful Revered Mothers were permitted to take of the sopor essence and unlock the gate to their Other Memory.  
  
The more Karkat heard the more worried he became. She began to impart knowledge on him in the manner of the sisterhood, bringing him into a state of mental relaxation and probing him gently with pertinent questions and ideas, the slightest change in his posture and subconscious motions told her everything she needed to know about his mind in order to most efficiently shape the concepts and teachings to his way of thinking. It was a form of communication perfected by the mental disciplines of the sisterhood over centuries that served them well in maintaining their covert networks of communication. Karkat found himself relaxing deeply under the Kanaya's tutelage as she brought him through the concepts of Other Memory.  
  
Karkat rested after they had spoken for an hour, and then she decided that he had gone far enough for the time being. Karkat was frustrated and wanted to know more, but she insisted that he practice the mental discipline techniques she had outlined for him before he would proceed further.  
  
Karkat found himself drifting as he woke, to stare up at the pale rectangular shape of the light well stretching up above him into the distance toward the sky. He had laid down on the stone bench at some point, and Kanaya had let him sleep. He didn't remember though, what they had been discussing. He sat up and rubbed his head thoughtfully, looking around him. Oddly, one of the plants in the hidden garden was now blooming with bright red blossoms, that he hadn't seen there before. He turned and found Kanaya with his eyes, she was wearing a different outfit and returning with some tea. He noticed her hair was freshly arranged, and frowned.  
"What happened? How long have I been sleeping?"  
"You warned me this would happen."  
"What do you mean?"  
"You haven't been sleeping. It is three months since I spoke to you last, you came here earlier and laid down to rest without saying anything."  
"But- I was just-" He looked around wildly. All of the plants had grown noticeably, but he had only laid his eyes shut for a second.  
"You are travelling without moving," she said, "drink your tea."  
  
Karkat awoke again, Kanaya was finishing speaking and placed a hand on his forehead.  
"You're tired, that's enough for your first lesson. You should rest, and come to me again."  
"My first lesson?"  
She looked at him pointedly.  
"Kanaya, I have been travelling without moving,"  
"Are you sure?"  
"I'm certain. I saw you again, in the future, we spoke and then I was here. This is what will happen to me."  
 _He will be in two places at once,_ she thought, _he will travel without moving._  
  
Karkat ran back to his own hive, he had promised Kanaya he would rest but how was that now possible, given what he knew? He went straight to his own screen and pulled up a Trollian window. Gamzee had been laid out on the woven rug just staring at the shadows playing across the ceiling, and sat up with a smile when Karkat came in.  
"Hey best friend! How'd it go?"  
"Pretty fucking good," said Karkat tapping away furiously, "I think I got some answers, but I'll need some more."  
Gamzee shrugged and stretched out again.  
  
Karkat went to his screen, and went to his screen, and sat down and stretched out in his chair and got up and looked out of the window at the dawn, or at the emptiness of space, or over his shoulder at the sleeping child Gamzee, and thought about what he was attempting. There would be no turning back from it. He started to type.  
  
CURRENT carcinoGeneticist [CCG] RIGHT NOW opened memo on board TEMPORAL NIGHTMARE RUMOUR MILL.  
CCG: ALL RIGHT I'M HERE.  
FUTURE carcinoGeneticist [FCG] over 99:99 HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.  
FCG: I KNOW.  
CCG: WE'VE NEVER REALLY GOT ON BEFORE, BUT I THINK WE NEED TO TALK.  
FCG: I KNOW. I WAS YOU A MOMENT AGO.  
FCG: AND  
FCG: A VERY LONG TIME AGO.  
CCG: THIS IS GOING TO GET VERY CONFUSING.  
DISTANT FUTURE carcinoGeneticist [DFCG] over 99:99 HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.  
DFCG: I'M HERE.  
CCG: WHO ASKED FOR YOU? THIS IS A PRIVATE CONVERSATION.  
DFCG: DON'T START THAT AGAIN!  
CCG: AGAIN?  
DFCG: SORRY, THIS IS THE FIRST TIME YOU HAVE STARTED THAT, I REMEMBER NOW.  
FCG: GREAT YOU'RE ONLY GOING TO CONFUSE THINGS, NO ONE EVEN ASKED FOR YOU TO COME IN HERE ANYWAY.  
DFCG: DON'T START THAT AGAIN!  
DFCG: THERE, THAT WAS RIGHT, I REMEMBER NOW.  
CCG: WHAT ARE WE BECOMING?  
FCG: I DON'T THINK WE'RE TURNING INTO ANYTHING THAT WE WERE NOT ALREADY.  
DFCG: NO, THAT COMES LATER.  
CCG: THIS ISN'T HELPING ME, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?  
FCG: YOU ALREADY KNOW WHAT ALL OF US THINK ABOUT THAT.  
CCG: I DON'T WANT TO LOOK AHEAD, KANAYA THINKS IT IS DANGEROUS.  
DFCG: DON'T TRUST HER- DON'T TRUST ANY OF THEM.  
FCG: SHIT WHO THE HELL IS HE SUPPOSED TO TRUST?  
DFCG: GAMZEE I GUESS, EVEN THOUGH HE DID KIND OF START ALL THIS.  
FCG: YOU MEAN WITH THE SOPOR THING?  
CCG: SOPOR. IT ALL KEEPS COMING BACK TO SOPOR.  
DFCG: YES. WHO CONTROLS THE SOPOR CONTROLS THE UNIVERSE.  
DFCG: I HAVE TO GO, YOU'RE ABOUT TO GO TO SLEEP AGAIN.  
CCG: SO?  
DFCG: YOU'RE SORT OF ABOUT TO BECOME ME.  
  
Karkat turned away from the screen and stood up, walking to the great viewing port on one side of his quarters to stare out of the window at space, knotting his fingers behind his back. He closed his eyes and concentrated, reaching back in his mind. It was becoming easier and easier as time went on, Kanaya was finding it harder to keep him fully invested in her lessons- they both knew he was reaching beyond what she was able, or at least permitted, to teach him. He slid down backwards in his awareness to his own childhood, seeking out the moment of clarity and focus that marked out a period in his life when his awareness had been greater them himself for a time. He took hold of the memories and drew them in, re-integrating self with self and refreshing himself with the knowledge and experience he had gathered. His younger self would go on of course, but something ineffable had been taken from him. The elder Karkat was shielding his youthful mind from the burden of foreknowledge by taking it away, until he was ready. Karkat smiled to his reflection. His personal history had become a disjointed mess as a version of himself that had learned to go beyond the boundaries of linear experience had bounced around from self to self across his life. He must have been a constant source of confusion to his friends with his strange little episodes.  
  
Outside, space rolled and wheeled about them. The stars moved, planets span in their course and suns screamed as they boiled alive. Karkat pressed his hands over his eyes impulsively and concentrated. Moments ago, he had been talking to himself, he had been another self, he had gone to Kanaya for help. And, he had been here, resting. He had been worrying over how to resolve the tensions in their situation and find a way to navigate them through it. He clearly remembered the hours and the days that had led him to this point and at the same time he remembered a disjointed lurch as his consciousness refocussed itself from one point of his life to another. He didn't know exactly what he had done, but it had happened and now he was the himself he now saw reflected in the glass, just as he had told his childhood self that he was about to become. It was becoming easier and easier now, his life was no longer any kind of linear narrative to him, just a series of moments and memories loosely drawn to each other but not presented in any kind of order, no longer bound by cause and effect. He had known for some time- perhaps all his time- that he could use this, somehow, but he still had no idea what he was supposed to use it all for.  
  
He had to find his centre again. He sat down cross legged on the floor and brought his breathing down to a steady pace of one breath per ten seconds. Using the control meditation that Kanaya had taught him he stilled the animal part of his brain and felt his consciousness expand outwards from his temples like an unfolding lotus. He struggled to reassemble the last memories that, temporally, he had experienced. There was violence brewing on the meteor. Gamzee would not be able to hold back his anger much longer, and Sollux couldn't survive in an environment where he did not have the ability to gather data to feed his voracious mind and form a computation of their situation. He resected the problem, piecing together ideas and data into new shapes. Kanaya was used to feeling that she could control what was happening. Gamzee was a warrior bred who had no enemy to fight. Sollux was a Mentat without data. Equius needed to feel that he could face their problems with his technicality and knowledge. Eridan and Feferi had seen their entire hierarchical structures broken down by forces outside their control. Vriska had been cast aside by the chaos she worshipped so assiduously. Terezi had no legislative framework to turn to. Even Nepeta who was so rarely troublesome couldn't function outside of her own understanding of hunt and blood. He cast his mind outward, and then returned to the present moment with a jarring snap. They were all the same- they needed something to act against or they would tear themselves apart. Lacking an enemy they understood, they would turn on one another. And him.  
  
Karkat had long ago forsaken Kanaya's warning about looking ahead. He had stared into his future, but he was approaching a place that he could not see. There was something coming for him now that would change everything, and afterwards he was a new self. He could no longer retreat into the comforts of his personal past, the future was issuing demands which had to be met. He stood and went to the storage cabinet next to his recuperacoon where the control valves were housed and opened up the sealed assembly. He was afraid, his hands shook.  
"I am becoming," he murmured to himself, "but I don't know who."  
He span the vales to fully open and there was a low groan from the vessel as his recuperacoon filled with new and potent liquids. Gamzee had shattered his mind and understanding like an egg this way once before, and then Kanaya had taken him beyond himself with a massive dose of unrefined sopor later. The next step was one he had been avoiding but he had, finally, run out of time. He stood above the seething mass of slime that awaited him and prepared himself mentally. In her own way Kanaya had prepared him for this moment.  
"I will not fear," he intoned, "fear is the little death."  
  
Karkat fell into the potent blend of slime and was paralysed. It encroached on his skin and his self, working into him with cold fingers that crushed him into a ball and left him drifting in a dark sea of slime. He felt himself shiver and then go still, he could not move. He unfastened his mind from the present and slipped backwards through his many selves, back toward the beginning. There was a glowing there, a place from which he came. Reason told him that this was the beginning of his existence and memory, but Kanaya had told him that there was more, that he carried his ancestry with him. He pushed back, he felt his limbs shrivel and atrophy and withdraw into himself. His body shrank and curled around. He was an eyeless and limbless thing, a mote in the eye of an egg, a speck of potential hanging in the amniotic fluid of prebirth. His mind darkened and shrank and he felt the blindness overwhelming him. There was no way out, he was trapped. No way forwards, and he was drowning. A minuscule fleck of life wriggled fitfully with unformed muscular strands that quickly dissolved into meaningless strands of protein. He lessened and shrank until there was nothing of him but a collection of undifferentiated cells. Whatever it was that Karkat used to be, or would become, sloughed off consciousness and thought and will until there was nothing left but a point of light that might in time become a mind. And then the light winked out.  
  
Karkat exploded backwards through time. He was another self, he was a thousand selves. Where he had seen his body represented as a linear progression from birth to death he now perceived an endless array of selves stretching out before him. Life before life before life leading back into the infinite beyond and the darkness.  
  
They called out to him, a million selves all of them screaming their names and their stories, endless countless lives demanding to be heard and to be counted, all of the personalities vigorous and fully formed, all of them real and present and all of them were him. Karkat thrashed about in the recuperacoon desperately in agony as the voices poured into his mind. He was a starship steward staring into the abyss as he plunged into endless space. He was conquering an alien jungle with knife and sickle as strange birds screamed and wheeled overhead. He was a lord, he was a peasant. He was a king and a slave, he killed and he was murdered, endlessly and on. There was no self any more, only one more voice among a cacophony of voices that all voiced their demands at once. Karkat withdrew into a hard small place in his mind that he carved out for himself and retreated from everything. He knew why Kanaya had warned him so vigorously. He was unprepared for what he faced, and there was nothing left for him. His own life was a distant memory and these other selves were going to tear him apart.  
  
There was silence, then. Karkat felt a presence near him. A voice whispered into his ear, calm and collected, and so very old.  
"I'll help you,"  
"They all say that,"  
"I'll help you if you want me to,"  
"How?"  
"I'll show you how to keep them out until you need them."  
"Please..."  
"Be calm. Listen to me. I'll show you."  
"Who are you?"  
The presence, that ancient being, told Karkat his secret name.  
  
In the main meeting area of the laboratory, Gamzee was prowling about restlessly, he had a killing-stick in hand, which put the others on edge. Equius leant against a far wall, just watching. Sollux was compulsively running a hand through his hair, he was sat on a couch with his knees drawn up to his chin. Opposite him, Kanaya sat serenely, but her expression was blank and uncaring. She had not spoken in hours, perhaps more then a day now. Sollux glared up at Gamzee with bleary eyes.  
"Can't you thtop pathing about like that?"  
"Why, motherfucker? Got a word or three you wanna lay on me right about now? Fuckin' say somethin'. I want you to say somethin', I want you to say one fuckin' word I'd love nothing fuckin' more!"  
"You're thuch a-"  
Gamzee was already vaulting over and had his killing-stick raised. His muscles bunched and corded as his fist drew  back in a perfect arc. Sollux looked up too late, and realised that this was it- Gamzee was finally ready to deal the killing stroke and nothing would hold him back any more. Equius was running at them, a look of pleading on his face but it was too late for that either. Time flowed and stopped, they were fixed in a moment of contemplation. Kanaya regarded them with liquid green eyes as they hung together in a killing tableaux. All of the elements drawn together in one single murderous knot that would leave them all changed, or dead.  
  
Karkat was there, where once he had not been. Kanaya never saw him, he had moved without her sensing him, in some way. He placed a hand on the back of Gamzee's shoulder and another on his hip, pulling and twisting at once. Gamzee span around suddenly, his energy redirected and turned against his murderous will. The killing-stick span away and clattered harmlessly against a wall. Karkat held up a hand and touched Gamzee's forehead gently.  
"Shh-h-h,"  
Gamzee fell back onto the couch, breathing heavily and clutching his chest. What he saw in Karkat's eyes left him unable to speak. Equius drew himself up to a halt and stared aghast. Sollux let out a strangled cry, and Karkat held out a hand in a conciliatory motion; Sollux bit his lip and nodded. Kanaya saw him through eyes trained by the sisterhood. She saw his gait, his musculature, his every nerve and sinew clearly, and then intent behind them. She did not recognise him, despite what her eyes told her should be stood in front of her.  
"Who are you?"  
Karkat looked over his shoulder and down at her, and she fought back the urge to cringe away. His eyes were fire and his will was absolute. She wanted to scream and claw at him, anything to get away from his eyes.  
"Who am I?" He hissed, "I _am_ the kwisatz haderach!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! I have been meaning to get this finished for a long while.... only needed time, and to figure this stuff out. I decided to just finish it all up in an enormous lump, I hope you can manage okay!
> 
> Here, Dunestuck comes to an end- I am pleased with it.

The warships of the empire were converging on Alternia. They were aware, as they approached, that something was amiss on the mother world. Most of the vessels had been ordered home in the most terse and blunt manner possible and the orders had been couched in such a way that it was clear no questions were to be asked. Something was amiss, but the vast majority of the fleet had no idea what.

The planet would normally be alive at the poles and the equatorial orbit with transit vessels bringing supplies down and shunting the needed sopor up into space. Now, however, there was no traffic. Some of the warships were low on sopor and would normally be requesting fresh supplies, but the orders had included a blanket instruction for radio silence in all bands, which made that impossible. The great bulk of the imperial flagship was also there. The Condesce herself had come, for the first time in a generation. The warships hovered in nervous precision, waiting for further orders. The planet was englobed and their positioning had been set very carefully- all of the face their main weapons down towards the planet.

The grand fleet of the Condesce was the ultimate weapon of the age, a unified force of combined arms capable of overwhelming system defences and placing a million troll soldiers onto any planetary surface, there to conquer. For the first time in recorded history that force of arms was brought to bear around Alternia itself, and the war leaders in their vessels were contemplating the unthinkable.

In her throne chamber the Condesce waited. She was arranged on a massive suspensor chair flecked In golden filigree and encrusted in gems and sculpted arrangements. She was attended by two naked blind slaves, one male and one female, who worked constantly to stroke deft fingers through the enormous mass of her hair. They worked endlessly, smoothing and unpicking the slightest knot or flaw, devoting themselves to maintaining her bodily perfection through touch alone. They had never seen her, they had been born to it.

As her slave attendants maintained her body, so she had attendants too that fed her voracious need for knowledge and information. Her ancient mind was still learning, still growing, and it was this need to expand and consume that kept her interested in the business of life and empire. She was surrounded by ministers and choristers who brought her reports and updates constantly. She would wave one forward, dismiss another with a flick of a finger, and so know all that transpired. She did not trust screens or computations- she wanted to know everything from a living face, from a voice she could test for lies and eyes she could stare into piercingly. Whispering voices surrounded her constantly, telling her what she demanded to know.

“Where,” she asked softly, “are these rebels?”  
“This is not known, Empress.”  
“How can this be?” She was amused, almost. For the first time in longer then she cared to admit, there was a thing in the universe not subject to her immediate whims. “I ordered agents dispatched, did I not?”  
“Agents were dispatched as you demanded, Empress.”  
“And so? What then?”

The minister looked uncomfortable. The Condesce stared at him intently as he read a report scrolling across a screen in his hands. It pleased her to make the man read, and state aloud what was there. He was starting to shiver a little under her gaze. The Condesce withered him with a look. He was nothing to her, none of them were. They were brief, temporary things she put in place, pieces on her game board and nothing more. The minister was intensely aware that he was disappointing the Empress.

“Wherever the agents went, there was no evidence to be found.”  
“Then they are incompetent and will be culled forthwith.”  
“Empress-” he hesitated. She realised there was more, more that he did not want to say. She snapped her fingers impatiently.  
“Speak!”  
“The agents reported an absolute lack of evidence.”  
“You said this.”  
“This is a different state of affairs to failure. The agents were thorough, and to find nothing at all is in fact evidence itself. They were expected, and it would seem that anything they sought was pulled away from their eyes before they could see.”  
“You speak in riddles!”  
“I must, Empress, because we have found only riddles.”

The Condesce considered this for a time and nodded brusquely. She dismissed the infinitely grateful minister with a wave, he melted back into blessed obscurity. The Condesce mused thoughtfully, as the room went quiet. When the Condesce was in a thoughtful mood the attendants and politicians of a thousand worlds knew better then to make a sound.

“Bring me my witch,” she said softly. Several eyes were cast about nervously. Nothing good ever came of it when the Condesce spoke to her witch. Many hoped that the Condesce would just get on with it and kill the troublesome female, many would like to do it for her. This one figure in the court of the empire- and the most lowly, powerless member of that court- alone seemed to be immune to the rage of the Empress. The Witch was summoned and came without complaint to the great room, entering slowly on bare feet that peeked out from under her shift dress in purest black fringed with green. She seemed to move across the floor like a gathering and boiling smoke that spread and weaved through the crowd effortlessly. At the foot of the throne she dropped smoothly to one knee in a formal bow before rising again before the Condesce with her head lowered.

The Condesce looked at her with naked disdain The Witch was everything that the Condesce was not. Where the Empress in her resplendent cruelty was bedecked with jewels, voluptuous and vital, the Witch was compact and slender, simplicity and grace. The Condesce loathed her on many psychological levels yet would not raise a hand to the Witch nor suffer anyone else to do so- as she had made brutally clear when several had tried. The Witch had a way of saying things, a way of turning a word perfectly to the occasion. She was a Bene Hortulax- and more then this, a Revered Mother of that order. Her wisdom was depthless, and her vision was equal to the needs of the Condesce. The Empress was nothing if not eloquent in framing her needs clearly.

“My Witch.”  
“Empress.”  
“Do you know why you are here?”

The Witch studied the Condesce thoughtfully in a fraction of a second. The Bene Hortulax had chosen her to be the companion and slave of the Empress for good reason, she knew her mistress intimately. Every slight increase in muscular tension, every motion of an eye, every twitch of her full, dark lips told a story that the Witch could read with precision.

“You have been thwarted,” said the Witch bluntly. She had learned that it did no good to be too subtle with the Condesce, “and you want to know how, and why.”  
There were soft gasps and muted words, instantly silenced as the Condesce swept her gaze around the room. The things that they said about the witches of the Bene Hortulax- these superstitions- were as prevalent at the highest levels of government as they were in the deepest gutter. As the Bene Hortulax no doubt wished.  
“Very good, little Witch. You remind me why I keep you.”  
“You keep me because I always tell you the truth.” It was a flat statement of fact, and as correct as anything the Witch said.  
“You know what I want then. Can you provide it? Tell me what is transpiring on my mother world. Who dares challenge the Imperious Condescension?”  
“I will need more information.”

Again the Condesce gestured, and a grovelling minister approached with a tablet which he passed to the Witch. The Condesce always loved to watch her pet Witch read. The woman would glance first at the top corner of the screen, and then her eyes would sweep down languidly in a diagonal path. She seemed to make no effort to follow the words but she instead drew some ineffable meaning from the interplay of marks and symbols that was not immediately obvious.

Finally, she spoke.  
“I see. When you said that you had been challenged, you meant it literally.”  
“Of course. That was received and would have been ignored as the ranting of a lunatic, except-”  
“Except that the threats have been coming true, and you cannot find the lunatic?”

Again the Condesce nodded, a little stiffly this time. Once more the Witch ran her eyes over the page. It took every ounce of her Bene Hortulax training, decades of rigid self-control, to show no emotion at what she saw.

The document had been submitted to an Alternian government orbital outpost in a document indicating that it was to be delivered to “she to whom it is addressed.” A minor official had read through it and, seeing that it was the most scurrilous treason, naturally submitted the document to the authorities. The normal course of action would be to find and cull the author, an execution in public to serve as a demonstration of the empire's might to the public.

The author of the missive could not be found, however. At first it seemed a mere oversight, a small glitch in the otherwise perfect orderly nature of Alternian justice. As time went on however it became clear that the forces of law and governance were chasing a ghost. There were no leads, no clues, no forensic evidence. No matter how they searched, it seemed as if the elusive author was just out of their reach. The message was passed slowly but surely up the chain of authority as more and more resources were put into correcting this aberration.

The message, that was read by the Revered Mother carefully before the Condesce herself, was short and vague but, to her Bene Hortulax eyes, filled with deep meanings.

_This message must be delivered to she to whom it is addressed. Formal notice is served that the Alternian empire, such as it is administered by and unto the Imperious Condescension, will no longer be permitted to function as a political entity._

_There will soon come to pass a new reality which will erase all trace of the old. The path is long to this truth, but the way has been shortened. He who's coming has been preordained is present in this moment and in all moments, and shall be acknowledged by the name that has been prepared for him._

_The Condesce will submit to certain demands that are to come. Before this, our will shall be made manifest on the surface of Alternia. The sopor shall cease to flow. The Condesce will realise her own powerlessness to prevent this, and the drought shall be interminable. He who can control the sopor can control the universe. He who can destroy a thing can control a thing. The one who embodies this maxim will prove his dominion when the flow ceases. The witch who reads this knows that my words are not to be taken lightly._

That was the entire message. It contained high treason, criminal thoughts, unacceptable statements. It was a death warrant for whomsoever wrote it, if they could be found. The Witch passed the screen back to the minister and closed her eyes. In a few moments she assembled a mental projection of the known facts.

The message spoke certainly of the kwisatz haderach, the shortener of the way. Not only this, but the message implied that it was written by the super-being himself, in full knowledge of his heritage and purpose. That alone was cause for concern, but even if such a being could exist- and every plan of the Bene Hortulax across thousands of gene lines did not predict that for at least thirteen more generations- the author was not intent on following any path that the Bene Hortulax had planned for. To cease the flow of the sopor? Unthinkable. The substance was necessary to the continued life and vitality of every individual in the empire. The chaos that would be caused if the sopor ceased to flow did not bear thinking about.

The Condesce assumed that the challenge was to her personally, but the Witch did not agree. The message was couched in such language that it would be impossible to ignore, and must be investigated by the authorities and so populated through government- but it was intended to be read by a Bene Hortulax who would understand the true meaning within it. Could it be that the challenge was being issued to the Bene Hortulax order itself? Yes, that was the only possibility. The Condesce was omnipotent and the absolute ruler of the universe, yet to the Bene Hortulax she was another piece in the great game. A necessary power, a fixed point around which forces could be bent and levered. She was needed, and the Bene Hortulax had no intention of acting to change the status quo at the current time.

The Witch opened her eyes. A second or two had passed. The Condesce was looking at her coldly.  
“Speak, Witch.”  
“There is one on Alternia who believes that they can be the master of the empire, and the universe.”  
“A madman. Why can we not find them?”

Because, thought the Witch, he can travel without moving perhaps. Can anyone find the kwisatz haderach if he does not wish to be found? Could such a being not simply choose to be elsewhere then where eyes were there to see him? How could anyone chase down a being who already knew everything they were going to do? She chided herself. She was already behaving as though this person was the kwisatz haderach, and it would take more then a simple demonstration of methods already well known to the order of the Bene Hortulax to persuade her that it was the case. What mattered- all that mattered- was that the sopor should flow. Even if there was the slightest chance that somebody could attempt what this challenge intimated then steps should be taken. There was no harm in being certain, after all.

“This person has considerable skills, clearly,” said the Witch evenly, and then looked at the Condesce directly- showing a shocking disregard for formality by meeting the eyes of the Empress openly.  
“What do you suggest, Witch?”  
“You already hold the planet in your fist. None can leave without your knowledge.”  
The Condesce smirked with knowledge of her absolute power, “yes.”  
“The polar ascension elevator is the only point on the planet's surface that connects with orbit now. I suggest that you send a lesion of terror-troops there to secure the base station. The one you seek must either be there, or must go there, to do what he says he will do and disrupt the flow.”

The Condesce mulled this over. To send troops to the surface was potentially a sign of panic on her part- even weakness- and not to be taken lightly. On the other hand, it was time for this foolishness to end once and for all. And the Witch was right- the sopor must flow.

“General,” said the Condesce, “send two legions of Threshcecutioner terror-troops. Secure the polar base station and occupy it absolutely.”  
A troll snapped to attention. The orders were incredible- unthinkable- but not up for discussion. “As you demand, Empress.” He turned sharply and strode away. The organisational effort behind moving two legions was not to be undertaken lightly and he knew he had to get to work immediately.

The Witch was troubled. That someone could so expertly send a coded message to her was more then coincidence would allow, and yet she refused to believe that the unthinkable had been achieved so soon. Whatever the truth of the matter, and even if the full facts were never known, all that mattered was that the legions of the Empress would ensure that the sopor flowed. The troops would send a strong signal that matters were not to be rearranged, no matter what a kwisatz haderach might think.

In the past, in a time when he had been slender and young, not quite yet an adult, Karkat woke up with a sigh. He had to adjust for a moment, taking the time to remember exactly where he was. His hive, Alternia, desert planet. He pushed himself clear of the recuperacoon and dressed in silence. He was becoming more used to this disjointed feeling- he was revisiting his own past, and at the same time changing it. He was making the past into the present, and remaking his choices all over again. He went to his window and looked out. He could already see Gamzee crossing the quad before his hive, come to visit his friend and practise again. Karkat tensed and concentrated. Yes, this was the right time. Gamzee was ready and so was he.

When Gamzee entered he didn't bother knocking, he and Karkat were so close that they went in and out of each other's homes without a second thought. They had not gone so far as to say it openly, but they were becoming moirails. When Gamzee casually shouldered the entryway to Karkat's hive open, he found his best friend stood there already, staring at him with a strangely penetrating, knowing look in his eye.

“Hey, best friend. What you all doin' there?” Gamzee drawled languidly.  
Karkat held up a hand, palm out, his fingers curled into a fist.  
“What's that?”  
“Gamzee, something in us sleeps. We have to travel, and learn, and grow or it will stay sleeping forever.”  
“What... is all this about man? You're talkin' all crazy now.”  
“Am I? Or am I talking the Cant.”  
“Don't be sayin' that man, you don't know.”  
Karkat smiled slowly, “when we reach down and rouse up that sleeping self, you know what he does?”  
“You can't be sayin' these things! You can't know this!”  
Karkat opened his hand. His palm had a crude image painted on it, two slashes representing a pair of eyes, over a curved line with turned-up ends.  
“The sleeper laughs,” Karkat said softly.

Gamzee stepped into the hive, and reflexively kicked back behind him to slam the door shut with the sole of his foot. He reached out and clasped Karkat's biceps in his hands, they were thin but immensely strong hands, Gamzee was coming into the first full bloom of his strength. Gamzee was staring down at him with a look of mingled horror and fury. Karkat knew well that the words he was saying were forbidden to outsiders. The most secret and sacred inner knowledge, the Cant.

“Karkat,” whispered Gamzee, “I can't be hearin' this, I have to- we have to not have fuckin' said these things, you get me? You just can't be sayin' these words.”  
“I know the Cant, Gamzee.”  
“How?” Gamzee was staggered.  
“I can tell you, but it's the biggest miracle you're ever going to witness, it's going to open up a whole new life.” Karkat held up his hand, “the sleeper will awaken.”  
“How is you knowin' the Subjugglator Cant,” Gamzee hissed, “who tole you, best friend? Who done this heretical bullshit?”  
“You told me,”  
“I never!”  
“You told me. A long time from now, when we went to war together. When we will be brothers of the killing-stick, when we will raise up the chucklevoodoos together.”  
“Why I do that?” Gamzee staggered back, “it's forbidden.”  
“Nothing to me is forbidden,” said Karkat with steel resolve, advancing on his friend with terrible purpose ringing in his words and the thrum of his footsteps on the boards, “for me all is permitted. I am the one who travels without moving. I am the one who is in two places at once. I am the shortener of the way.”  
“Who are you?”  
“Let's find out together.” Karkat placed a hand on Gamzee's shoulder, “you have to take me into Sietch.”  
“Karkat! Motherfucker, they kill you if they see you in Sietch!”  
“No, I will know their ways. They will recognise me. Take me to the Sietch of the three rocks where the sun paints the dawn in pink and red.”  
“I can't do that, man. Sietch is for Subjugglators.”  
“Then I'll go, and you can follow. If I step one foot off the path, you will know I am lying. But if I take you there to the Sietch, you will know I am telling you true. I know the Cant, and the Way.”

Karkat led his childhood friend into the very heard of his friend's religion, into the centre of his beliefs. Karkat stood before the massed throngs of the underground conclave of Subjugglators. He told them their Cant and their Way, and the did recognise him. He knew their ways without being told, and they saw the miracle of the kwisatz haderach. Karkat stole away his own childhood to run across the dune seas and taunt the Bene Hortulax with his Subjugglator brothers and sisters. They knew him, and they followed him. When Karkat came of age he was with them, and they took him out into the dune sea for his final test.

Gamzee stood behind and to the left of his friend and moirail, his brother in the killing-stick. He was swaddled in the tight, ribbed bindings of the Subjugglator adept, as was Karkat. Behind them, in a line arrayed along the rise of a dune, his brothers and sisters stared out over the open sands. The light was just fading, it was coming into their time now. As the moons rose, their faces were lit with white skull-paints, their fearsome visages seemed to glow in the blue half-light.

The leader of the Sietch grunted deep in his throat and the line of Subjugglators shifted as one, paying him due respect and attention.  
“Boy,” he called out, “you is in the presence of your Grand High, here under th' moon, our moon, and th' stars, our stars. You is in a holy place right here an' now.”  
Karkat stared straight ahead, but answered the massive Subjugglator behind him, “I know, Grand High.”  
“You is here to show us you is us.”  
“I will, Grand High.”  
“You is here to become a virtuous Subjugglator, one of the chosen. Be you ready, boy?”  
“I am, Grand High.”

Behind him, Karkat heard the Grand High shift and shuffle across the treacherous sand with ease, riding the grains, and clap a massive hand down on Gamzee's shoulder.  
“You is standin' with this boy.”  
“I am, Grand High.”  
“You is here showin' us he is us.”  
“I will, Grand High.”  
“You is here to share what his fate be. Maybe death, maybe life most high.”  
“I know, Grand High.”

The Grand High nodded, satisfied that the Cant had been said and believed. He stepped back and grunted again. “Begin it, fuckers.”

Gamzee crouched down on one knee behind his friend as Karkat leant and then knelt in the sand, and placed his outstretched palms there before him. Gamzee reached out and touched the space between his shoulder blades. Karkat was still tiny compared to the average Subjugglator, yet he stood proudly among them. The whispers were stronger and louder by the day- he was one who had come to lead those with ears to hear, eyes to see, and feet to march.  
“You don't got to do this best friend. You got time to call it a bad time, come back later.”  
“I know,” answered Karkat, concentrating.  
“But,” said Gamzee, “if you do this thing, you got to know. I'm yours. I'm with you till it all go black.”  
Karkat smiled grimly. “I know.”

Karkat extended his consciousness outwards, plunging down into the sands. The Subjugglators had given him drugs, spices and herbs mashed with sopor, but he barely felt anything. Maybe that was what the drugs gave him- a fearless sense of detachment from what he was doing. He closed his eyes and hummed deep in his throat as he called up the chucklevoodoos.

The sands of the dune sea shifted and rolled into the distance, forming miasmic rolling dunes that plagued and tricked the eye. The Grand High stood erect and stared into the distance, he was stroking his chin thoughtfully. He let out a low, keening groan from his own throat.  
“Ahh-h-hm, Walida-Dud.”  
The others behind him began to chant in turn, calling out to Walida-Dud. The great worm mother of the dune sea. The secret that was kept by the Bene Hortulax who believe that they alone knew how to tend and worship her. This then was the greatest innermost secret of the Subjugglator Cant, that they mastered their own way to speak to Walida-Dud, to send their own dreams down into the sands to prick her mind and urge her up.

Karkat shouted, a great noiseless meaningless urging, deep into the sands. Underneath, fathoms down, the massive forms went about their unknowable lives. They were infinitely old, ancient and invincible. All his life Karkat had been taught that one mother-grub is brought to fruition by the Bene Hortulax, one to raise up the children of generations untold. A mother-grub to give birth to an entire people and, in time, to die and make way for the new mother-grub. What the Bene Hortulax worked to conceal, what the Subjugglators knew, and what Karkat knew, was that Walida-Dud spread her enormous grub-children far and wide beneath the sands. They were numerous- and dangerous. The mighty worms of the sands, when they were ever spotted, were taken to be strange oversized lusii like any other- the knowledge that these creatures were one and the same as the mother-grub was the ultimate truth.

The Grand High balled his fists and sent his low, growling prayer out over the sands.  
“Walida-Dud.”  
The gathered Subjugglators raised up one fist apiece and joined him, repeating the name. One of them clapped the Grand High on the shoulder and pointed out into the dune sea.  
“Look, there!”  
The Grand High opened his eyes. “Have we grub-sign?”  
“Grand High, we have grub-sign as only God has ever seen!”

The sands parted and boiled, burning and sparking with raw static power. The great white bulk of a mother-grub, Walida-Dud to the Subjugglators, pushed up against the surface and broke free into the air. It was enormous- fully half a kilometre long or more, and drove with ease through the sand dunes, blasting them to pieces under the bulk of its' segments. Where Walida-Dud passed, the sands became green and clumped tight. This, too, was the secret of Walida-Dud. The mother-grub not only gave life to the race, she also produced the sopor from her body. The great, blind, massive children of the one mother that the Bene Hortulax tended dreamed endlessly in their sopor, and their infinite minds roamed the cosmos as great swirling vortices of energy. No simple creatures of flesh and bone, Walida-Dud the mother-grub, her race was one of cosmic wanderers tethered only tenuously to a world. The sopor could be found only on Alternia, because only there did Walida-Dud live. In each generation one of these mother-grubs was found and tethered by the Bene Hortulax, taken out of the desert in order to become fertile and breed forth the troll race, while the children of the dunes were worshipped in secret by the Subjugglators who guarded them with religious fervour.

Now this mother-grub, infertile and blind, destined for a life in the secret places beneath the sands, had been called and answered to Karkat. Its' glistening white body, pulsing and wet with sopor, rolled restlessly in the unfamiliar air. Karkat stood and raised both arms, and the mother-grub came to a slow halt before him, lifting up its' white, blunt mouth to the heavens and letting out a sound like the death of mountains and rivers, an eternal noise that made a mockery of time's passage.

“Now,” said the Grand High, “he is us, and we is he.”  
Gamzee whooped and hugged Karkat about the waist, “you miraculous mother fucker! You're my fuckin' brother of the killing-stick, my lord, my moirail.”  
Karkat twisted about in his arms and embraced Gamzee. He knew the future now, all of it. He knew what was to come, and that this would be one of the few truly honest moments that they would share together amid the trials to come. And more, he knew that Gamzee would be his rock, his steady hand, his guide and follower. He embraced his moirail and they fell together under the baleful aegis of Walida-Dud.

The time that passed bonded them, and bonded the Subjugglators to him. They knew that they had been granted a miracle, a one who knew what was to come. They called him teacher and swore allegiance to his cause. When he told them of the things to come they laughed, because a Subjugglator laughs at death.

Time passed, Karkat became. Karkat was. Karkat decided that the moment for action had arrived. He brought Kanaya to him. She no longer waited for his confused visits, disjointed in time. Those moments were passed, and now when Karkat called she went to him willingly and went down on one knee before him to hear his orders. Though her order had set out plans stretching ahead for generations to come, she knew that she was in the presence of the kwisatz haderach. The shortener of the way.

Karkat then worked to gather his allies, in readiness. The time of the final conflict with the Condesce could be delayed, but it would come. He had his army, but that was not enough. He gathered his closest followers to him over the following standard universal year. He needed technologists to help him carry out his plan, and so he sought out Sollux and Equius. He needed someone to chronicle his words, to say the things that needed to be said for those in the far future to hear, and so he found Terezi and Vriska who would document him in their own unique ways. Nepeta clung to him from the first moment, and he knew that in the time of greatest strife she would be his great ally. Even Eridan and Feferi, who he seized by force and made clear were his hostages, came to respect him in their own ways. He took away from them the certainty of their social position when Subjugglators invaded their hives and snatched them up, but he gave them a new order to come and they saw the truth in it. Feferi with delight and optimism, Eridan with gnawing fear but a fear that kept him in line.

Karkat gathered his council to him in the Sietch then. They were not yet unified, they followed him because they feared him, or loved him, or because they knew that they must- they were not yet a single entity, but that would come.

“Sollux.”  
“Yeth?”  
“Is everything ready?”  
The mentat looked even more nervous then usual. His lips were chapped and bloodied where he had been chewing at them compulsively.  
“Yeth, it'th ready. The program will do everything you want but-”  
“You're going to ask, am I sure? Can I really be planning such a murder?”

Around the edges of the room, his personal guard of Subjugglators shifted and grinned at each other in rising delight.

“Mm. Yeth.”  
“I am sure. Listen to me, all of you. I have seen what is to come. The struggle that faces us is more then a war, it is a great typhoon-struggle for the fate of the universe and every living, thinking thing in it. The Condesce is upon the path, and we cannot go around her so we shall go through her. What we do will be great and terrible, and ultimately necessary.”  
“If you thay it, I believe you. But that thtill doethn't make it any eathier.”

“Equius?”  
“Yes, Karkat.”  
“Are the machines ready?”  
Equius looked as uncomfortable as Sollux, although he hid it a little better. He was their master technologist, and always he was stripped to the waist and usually coated in some mixture of engine and machine lubricant. He wore the wide belt with the shining decorative buckle indicating his caste and rank.  
“Yes. They are of exquisite construction. I found what you described exactly where you said it would be. When the time comes, it will happen as you prescribed.”

Karkat cast his eyes around the room.  
“Terezi,”  
“Yes?” The blind lawmistress always cast her gaze down, but she knew the location of everyone around her and turned to him.  
“We are creating a new law, today. We are beginning anew. You must start your work.”  
“What am I supposed to do?”  
“Write. You have all you need, you will know what to say.”  
“I... understand. I think.”  
“Trust me.”  
“I do.”  
Karkat grinned wryly, “and Vriska? Just keep writing your secret journals behind my back, as you have been,”  
At the back of the room Vriska flushed in embarrassment but refused to answer.

“Kanaya.”  
“Yes.”  
“Tell me of the Condesce.”  
“What do you want to know?”  
“I want to send her a message. You will help me write it. Then, we have much to do.”  
“Yes.”

Karkat was a grown adult now. The raiment of a Subjugglator bound up his firm, lean body and emphasised the hard musculature he had developed. The sand-wind of the desert had blasted his hair to a dusty dark grey, his hands were hard and unyielding. Time had weathered him, but also shaped and formed him. He sat bestride time like a careful rider.

“The Condesce will come soon,” he said.  
“She does not come to Alternia.”  
“She will come.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I demand she come.”

Time passed. Alternia was besieged by the warships of the Condesce. Her forces reached out to clasp this being who sought to speak treason, and yet they could not have him. None could stand against him, because Karkat travelled without moving, and knew the path to evade all hands raised against him. The great flagship of her fleet descended through the atmosphere like a vivid carmine trident ready to strike into the pole of the planet. Alongside it, two stratocarriers bearing a legion of Threshcecutioners apiece descended. The polar base of the ascension elevator was their target. It was a thread of pure energy rising up into the sky and into orbit, along which cargoes of sopor were raised up to serve the needs of the empire. This was the only point on the planet from which orbital space could be achieved, and the Condesce intended to control it utterly.

The stratocarriers landed and began disgorging their men. Above them, the flagship remained, stationary and quiet. The invaders stepped out onto the blistering, freezing ice and immediately hugged their bodies, chilled even through environment suits.

Across the void of space, Karkat looked out of the viewing port of an abandoned meteor laboratory. It had been found exactly where he said it would be, just as all the other equipment had. Before the spread of the empire out into galactic space the entire Alternian system had been alive with factories, war-machines, endless stores of materiel. Most were gone now, but among the millions of tumbling stones surrounding their sun there were some, unknown and lost to time and memory. They had waited there for the Condesce to arrive. Her agents could not touch them, they were firmly out of the grasp of any agency alive on Alternia, and they had waited. Karkat had forbad them from exploring or searching out into the asteroid belt. He had kept them locked together until it seemed as though they were going to die together. The strain had nearly broken them...

Karkat started as he realised he had been in this moment before. He remembered it clearly. The strain had taken too fare a toll on Gamzee, he was about to attack Sollux. Karkat turned and moved, and went to stop him.

The grand flagship of the Condesce hovered almost smugly above the polar region. She was secure in her ultimate fortress, and commanded the entire world. She had her witch summoned before her. In deference to their polar location, the Condesce had clothed herself in exquisite white furs, decorating the hall similarly. In contrast, the Revered Mother wore her normal garb.

“Witch!”  
“I am here.”  
“Well, we have done what we have done. The planet remains ours, as it always has been. And what sign of this traitor, I wonder?”  
“No sign.”  
“Of course!” She screeched, “who is this man? This ghost? Where is he? I am vexed by a nothing!”  
“Of only this I am sure: he exists.”  
“Then you are of little use to me.”  
“Then kill me.”

The Condesce narrowed her eyes gleefully. In truth, she would kill her Witch in time. But she wanted it to be a slow, excruciating process. She wanted it to last... and she had not yet decided on the means.

“I will not kill you yet.”  
“I know.”

The Condesce sneered and was about to wave the Witch away, when suddenly alarms sounded and the vessel shifted unusually. The Condesce looked about wildly and demanded answers, and a minister raced into the hall and dropped to the floor in obedience.  
“My Empress!”  
“What is happening? I gave no orders that we should move!”  
“My Empress, it is... there is a...”  
“Spit it out, man!”  
“We have detected... motion in the asteroid belt. My Empress! There are meteors, moving apparently under their own power, at incredible speed!”  
“How is this possible?”  
“It would appear that several ancient facilities have been discovered at once, and reactivated. Now, they are moving!”  
“Moving where,” said the Condesce coldly although she already suspected.  
“H-here, my Empress. Alternia.”  
“Stop them!”  
“It is already too late,” the minister cringed and pressed his forehead to the floor, “our vessels are moving to attack but will not stop them all. The bombardment will... the planet will be decimated.”  
At that the Witch paled and rose up to her feet. “The sopor must flow!”

Gamzee sat, quiescent and still, while Karkat calmly touched his forehead. He turned and looked around the room to them all.  
“I apologise. I have not always been clear with you all. I have asked much of you, and given little comfort in return, and this time we have spent here has not been easy. I have always said, I can't tell you everything, I can't give you a plan in full, but now that has changed. The program is running, the meteors will fall on Alternia in moments.

Terezi cried out. Nepeta went to her and put an arm around her shoulders. Karkat closed his eyes, he knew he owed them more then this.  
“Your homes will all be destroyed. The surface will be scored clean. Most will die. In the dune seas, groups of Subjugglators will survive in their Sietches. They will become the new stewards of the planet.”  
Kanaya looked up and him slowly, accusingly. “And the sopor...”  
“The sopor will no longer flow.”  
“The Condesce will never allow it.”  
“She has no choice. I have shown her what I can do, and what supplies now remain on Alternia are under my control. Only the secret underground caches will be spared the destruction, and my armies control those. The Condesce will be forced to deal with me directly.”

So it came to pass. The Condesce watched as her armies were annihilated, as cities were razed to the ground and the surface of Alternia became a barren hell. Under the sands, the children of Walida-Dud waited safe and serene in their dreaming. When the message came, the Condesce knew that she had, finally, no choice. Her vessel moved to the meeting place that Karkat demanded, and she agreed to an audience with him.

Karkat strode across the polished tile floor of the great audience hall of the Condesce with his frightened retinue behind him. The Empress herself was resplendent as ever, but her skin was pale and drawn, and her eyes were wide with a new emotion she had no name for.

“Who are you,” she said breathily as Karkat entered.  
“I am the kwisatz haderach,” he answered simply.

The Witch let out a deafening scream and leapt for him, “lies!”

Karkat had his killing-stick in hand moments before she reached him. A Revered Mother of the Bene Hortulax was in absolute control of her every muscle and motion, her blows were precise and lethal as they rained down on him. At each turn, Karkat met her assault with the flat of his killing-stick, effortlessly blocking and turning her away.

“Who are you?” She screamed.  
“You know who I am!”  
“How can this be?” She chopped at his neck with the blade of her hand but he was already gone, moving with the ease of one who saw her motions before she made them.  
“I am what is.”  
“You lie!”  
“You made me, Bene Hortulax witch.”

She made to seize him, and Karkat seized her throat. He lifted her as though she were nothing, and with a controlled exhalation of power thrust her across the room to skid across the tiles.  
“Tell her!” Karkat shouted, pointing at the Condesce, “tell her who is in two places at one time! Tell her who travels without moving! Tell her who looked up into your eyes as a newborn in swaddling-clothes, and saw your face as you decided that this child would be protected by the Bene Hortulax and brought to maturity to serve your gene lines!”  
“You cannot know this!”  
“I was there! I am there now, Witch! I am there, staring at you, listening to you. I am that child, I am the man, I am he that is to come. Tell her who I am!”  
The Witch moaned bitterly, sobbing and defeated, “he is the kwisatz haderach!”

The Condesce looked about in confusion as Karkat approached her throne.  
“What have you done,” she hissed.  
“I have stopped the flow of sopor.”  
“Then you have killed our race!”  
“No,” Karkat grimaced, “only most of our race. We will renew, and change.”  
The Condesce looked into his eyes and saw a man who had planned out and executed a genocide of unheard-of proportions. A being that had brought down a curtain of madness over his own race and would watch as his own people boiled in their own minds.  
“What do you want,” the Condesce groaned.  
“You mean, in exchange for the flow of sopor?”  
She nodded.  
“You have nothing to offer me, and the sopor will not flow until I wish it, and except to where I wish it. But, there is one thing I want from you, Condesce.”  
She drew together her brows ferociously and sat up proudly, “and what is that?”  
“I want you to abide by the gift you gave me once. The promise.”  
“Promise?”  
“Search your mind, Condesce. Think back. You swore that you would keep me, and remember me. You promised me that when all else was gone I would not be forgot because you would carry my memory on.”

The Condesce stared deeply into his eyes. She was looking at Karkat Vantas, the kwisatz haderach, and she was looking into the ancestral line of his genetic antecedents. She stared into the reborn face of the suffering one that she had seen executed. She remembered, in that moment, the promise that she had made to him. Karkat had passed into his Other Memory and it had nearly destroyed him, but there had been one who had come to him and joined with him. In an alliance within his own mind he had let his ancestor protect him from the ravages of Other Memory, in exchange for a little piece of himself that he had given up that his ancestor could have a life in him again.

“It is me, Condesce. I am here, as I was before.”  
“You- cannot be-”  
“I told you once, that you too would come to an end.”

The Condesce gave out a moan of pure horror and fell from her throne at the feet of the Sufferer, he who had been reduced to nothing. He who commanded the Subjugglators, he who commanded Walida-Dud and the sopor itself. She screeched bitterly as her power was broken by the kwisatz haderach.

Karkat turned and addressed the hall, and the gathered ministers.  
“I am now the prime-mover of the empire. I am he that shapes, and he that shortens the way. I am the source, and the destination of all.”  
Karkat closed his eyes, and slowly raised his hands, “the empire will be remade by the kwisatz haderach. I shall take the Condesce as my consort in this and she will sit at my side, that my heirs will be produced in their time.”

There were gasps from the assembled worthies but he went on.  
“My children will rule after me, and you will know them for my children by the signs that they will give you. Our race will learn to live without the sopor, for I give you no choice. Millions will die, to produce the one or two that are able to live, and we will rebuild.”

Karkat pronounced the future path of the empire in that speech, and as he had foreseen Terezi was writing down the new law that he elicited as he spoke. The Witch looked on Kanaya with despair, and she met the eyes of the Revered Mother with a chill stare.

“I am the author, and the pen which writes history will sit in my hand from now. I will bring change, and death, and rebirth through the struggle to come.” Karkat finally took a deep, shuddering breath and when he spoke it was at last as himself, the one integrated self of all his selves that focussed and centred on one point in time.  
“I am the kwisatz haderach.”


End file.
